The Bastard Prince Read Online Free PDF

present circumstances, except that even if Dimitri had not been present, the Torenthi herald and at least some of his escort undoubtedly were Deryni.
    This rather canceled out any advantage his meager talent might have given him; for Deryni, though they could not prevent being Truth-Read, sometimes could detect it. It would not do for the Torenthi herald to know what Rhys Michael could do, even if he could keep it from Dimitri.
    He dared not Truth-Read during court today, then—and he must guard his own words, for both the herald and Dimitri undoubtedly would seek to Truth-Read him . As Albertus and his party came to stand just behind Rhun and Manfred and Richard, the king shifted his attention back to Udaut, who had started purposefully toward the back of the hall.
    Udaut did not announce the visitors waiting there; merely gave them leave with a gesture to approach, turning then to proceed back up the hall in the assumption that they would follow. They did, but the men-at-arms made their own statement of their presence, drawing to attention with much stamping and clashing of arms in martial drill, then pacing behind Udaut with heavy tread, the banner bearer and a bemused herald following almost indolently behind.
    When the six guardsmen reached the dais before the throne, they came to a halt with another stamping of steel-shod feet and clashing of mailed fists on ornate breastplates, then parted to make an aisle through which their leader might proceed. The man with the banner footed his staff with a clash of metal against the wooden floor, dipping the white silk in salute as the herald gave a restrained, formal bow.
    â€œRhys Haldane of Gwynedd,” the herald said, the clear voice lightly accented as he drew himself erect from his bow. The man’s dark hair was cut short around his long face, the severity emphasizing high cheekbones and slightly canted dark eyes above a thin moustache and a small, close-clipped beard. “Hear the words of my master, the Prince Miklos of Torenth, who acts in behalf of his kinsman, the royal Marek of Festil, rightful king of this realm.”
    â€œSir, you stand before the rightful king of this realm!” Richard Murdoch said, hotheaded and belligerent as he took a step forward, one gloved hand wrapped taut over the pommel of his sword. “You will observe appropriate courtesy.”
    The herald inclined his head indulgently toward the younger man. “My master has not sent me to debate titles, my lord. His message is for the Haldane.”
    â€œThen, speak,” Rhys Michael said, before Richard could reply. “The Haldane is listening.”
    â€œMy lord.” The herald inclined his head again. “My gracious prince bids me instruct this court on the antiquity of the noble House of Festil, which sprang from the royal line of Torenth and ruled in Gwynedd for nearly a century. Prince Marek of Festil is the current representer of that noble house. Through his marriage last year to the Princess Charis, Duchess of Tolan and sister to my lord Prince Miklos and King Arion of Torenth, Prince Marek has confirmed, ratified, and strengthened his royal heritage. Already, the royal and ducal line is renewed and secured in the person of his firstborn son, the future Duke of Tolan, who also will rule one day in Gwynedd as King Imre the Second.”
    A low mutter escaped Rhun’s lips, but Hubert slightly raised a pudgy hand in forbearance. Rhys Michael felt a cold chill of dread churning in his gut, spiced by anger, but the herald was not yet finished.
    â€œTo that end,” the man went on, “and in celebration of the birth of the young prince, my lord Prince Miklos would invite the Haldane court to attend his nephew’s christening at Culliecairn, which castle and town my lord Miklos means to present to the royal child as a christening gift.”
    A murmur of outrage began to ruffle through the hall, but the herald’s voice rose above it as he